


Friday By Dice

by Dragongoddess13



Series: Sex Is An Emotion In Motion [12]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dungeons and Dragons, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Original Character(s), Slow Build, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:55:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22682821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragongoddess13/pseuds/Dragongoddess13
Summary: Arya and Gendry play D&D through the years with their closest friends.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Series: Sex Is An Emotion In Motion [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1530782
Comments: 16
Kudos: 54





	1. Session 1: Introductions

Friday by Dice

Session 1: Introductions

xXx

The roar of the fire was no match for the sounds of the crowds moving passed the smithy. Cletus ignored it, focusing on the metal he pulled from the furnace. He lays it across the anvil, picking up his hammer and begins to shape the glowing mass. The hours pass quickly as he works, so focused on his task that he fails to notice his contemporaries had filed out of the smithy one by one as the day wore on and the crowds thinned out. 

As he squelches the metal, he becomes aware of his surroundings, realizing rather quickly that he was alone; just like he preferred. He looks over the blade, the thin stiletto fencing sword glinting in the firelight. It wasn’t something he usually made, but the urge to make something like this, elegant, graceful, had hit him hard this morning and he suddenly felt as though he’d been possessed. 

Cletus was a simple man. Standoffish at the best of times, he stands over six feet tall, with dark hair shaved close and dark blue eyes. He’s human, well built and most often described as surly. 

Cletus runs a cloth over the blade before placing it carefully on a stand in the shop attached to the smithy. Even as he does so he feels a longing in his heart that he can’t describe, but it’s almost as though something is about to happen, something that will change his life forever. He’s not sure he wants that. He likes his life. It’s simple and devoid of the complications that usually come with a life in the capital. And yet he feels drawn to these changes, as though fate has something to offer him. 

Cletus spends the evening in a pub off the high street among the hard working folk of King’s Landing. He drinks, he eats and mostly keeps to himself. The night comes to a close for him among the revelry of the traveling bards, but before he can slip away to his small home in flea bottom, his attention is drawn to a table in the far corner. There’s raucous cheering and a group gathered around it, and the crowd parts just long enough for him to catch sight of a young woman at the table, her fist clenched with another man’s, a dark skinned dwarf, elbows on the table. She doesn’t appear to be struggling and Cletus finds himself drawn to her. Standing at the back of the crowd, towering over most of the spectators as she slams the man’s hand to the table, effectively winning the bout. 

A roar of cheers goes up, a few patrons grouching about losing, but the young woman merely accepts a drink that’s placed in front of her and shoots it back before rounding up the gold pieces that get thrown on the table in front of her. She grins, stuffing them into her bag. Another challenger steps up, this time a half elf he knows from the markets, and she soundly beats him as well. She beats three more challengers before a female half orc he works with at the smithy takes her title, though the woman merely laughs. 

Cletus finally leaves, catching sight of the young woman moving to the bar with his contemporary, and he heads home, the feelings of imminent change growing stronger.

When he wakes the next morning, he’s nearly drowning in the feelings, but he pushes them aside as best he can and heads off to the smithy where he works through the morning. At noon, the rest of the black smiths and armorers break off for lunch, but Gendry remains behind, volunteering to man the shop while everyone is out. It’s in this time that he finally noticed the longing feelings have disappeared. 

Cletus hears the bell above the door of the shop and steps out of the smithy, wiping his hands with a rag. He stops short as he catches sight of the woman from the night before. 

“Can I help you?” he asks. 

The woman turns to look at him and for the first time he gets a better look at her than he did the previous night. She’s an elf, fair of skin, pointed ears poking through the strands of silky brown hair that flow around her shoulders. Her high cheekbones and delicate features make her out to be a highborn. Her eyes are like moonlight, bright and silver and the mischievous glow in them sets him on edge. 

She opens her mouth to reply, but cuts herself off as her eyes catch sight of something behind him. She steps forward and around him and he turns to keep her in sight. She’s entranced by the sword he made the day before, the delicate fencing sword he couldn’t figure out why he was so driven to make. 

“Tell me about this one?” It's somewhat demanding, but not rude, not like the other high borns who have come through here with their sneers and snobby remarks. 

“Valerian steel, just finished last night. Silver inlay in the hilt and pommel and 3 real sapphires inlaid along the cross guard. An enchanter down the way sold the gems to us, they can store one spell each.” he tells her. 

“How much?” she asks, her eyes lighting up, sparkling with desire. 

“Two hundred gold pieces.” he tells her, and she steps back from the pedestal thoughtfully. 

“Not bad.” she says, examining the blade. She reaches forward to pick it up, but stops herself midway. “May I?” she questions. 

“Of course.” he replies, watching as she reverently lifts it from his resting place and steps back, posing with it. She moves with a blinding speed, one skilled maneuver after the next and Cletus is captivated by the sight. 

“Do you believe in fate Mr…” 

“Cletus, just Cletus.” he tells her. 

“Just Cletus.” she replies with a smirk. “Do you?” 

Cletus hesitates to answer. He’s not sure  _ how  _ to answer that. The simple answer would be no, but as of late, he’s felt as though things aren’t quite what they seem around him. Conflicts have sprouting up all around the empire, from the Northern borders to the Southern coast and chaos has come to bear because of it. And yet, Cletus has felt no urgency, no concern. Where his fellows were preparing for potential war and the work that would come to them with that, there was a nagging feeling in his bones that he would not be there to see the influx. 

“No, I don’t.” he finally tells her. 

She studies him, a slow smile spreading her lips. “You’re lying.” she says and he feels anger flare up. How dare she. 

“Excuse me?” he begins, heat flooding his cheeks. He’s always been quick to temper, that’s why he made such a good blacksmith, he could hammer out his frustrations and anger on the steel and make something useful and beautiful with it. 

The young woman, whose name he still doesn’t know, shakes her head and just like that the anger dissipates. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you, it’s just… you’re hiding something.” she says. “Perhaps… it’s kismet, perhaps not, but from the moment I walked past this place I knew there was more to it than a simple smithy and quite frankly, I believe you are the reason for that.” 

“Me? Why me?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. The Raven Queen works in mysterious ways. She does not tell us mere mortals what she plans, only expects us to fall along the lines of fate.” 

Cletus huffs. “No offense to you and your  _ queen _ , but I don’t take kindly to being told how to live my life, god or no god.”

She shrugs again. “Fair enough. I’ll take the sword.” she tells him, fishing out the appropriate amount of money and handing it over. He takes it with a thanks. She smiles as she slips the sword into her belt and turns to leave. As she reaches the door, she looks over her shoulder at him with a smirk. “See you soon, just Cletus.” 

-

-

-

-

-

“This place is cesspool.” Nymeria’s companion grumbles, keeping his hood low over his face. She agrees, but feels no obligation to encourage his less than hospitable attitude. Aegon has been moody ever since they hit the two mile mark outside King’s Landing. She can’t blame him. The capital is a far cry from their small town in the north, and while both of noble blood, opulence is luxury the North can scarcely afford when survival is at the forefront of everyone’s minds. 

In the North, protecting the people and ensuring the survival of the kingdom are all that matters, but here in the Capital, the wealthy elite stand on the backs of the working masses and truly believe themselves to be that tall. 

“We won’t be here long.” Nymeria tells her companion. 

Nymeria is a Wood Elf, only a bit taller than five feet, with sharp features and piercing grey eyes. She has medium length brown hair which she keeps half swept up in a bun at the back of her head. She’s beautiful, though she wouldn’t agree with anyone who told her that, and the air she gives off is noble and deadly. 

Her companion goes by the name Aegon. A half elf and her half brother, he’s almost her exact match compared to their siblings. Shaggy black hair and the same piercing grey eyes, the only difference is his perpetual scowl. He’s intimidating to those who don’t know him and the albino Dire wolf at his side always causes quite the stir. 

“We better not be. Just being here makes me nauseous.” Aegon replies. Nymeria rolls her eyes but pushes on, her clean white horse weaving through the crowd beside Aegon’s grey mare. 

Eventually Nymeria stops and asks a passing citizen where to find a decent inn and good drink and the halfling female points them toward the Lion’s Den an inn and pub a few blocks down and just off the high street. They pick their way through the crowd, eventually making it to the inn, where they hitch their horses to the attached stable and head in. They pay two gold for a room with two beds and a view of the back of the stable and then head upstairs to drop off their travel packs. 

Aegon drops onto the bed with an exhausted sigh. “I’m stayin’ in tonight. Bring me somethin’ from downstairs when you come back up.” Nymeria rolls her eyes. “Hey, don’t roll your eyes at me, we’re only here cause your little god sent you some weird dream.” he tells her. 

“Whatever, sit here and mope for all I care.” 

“I will, thank you very much.” he replies, sticking his nose in the air. 

Nymeria turns and heads down to the pub. She takes a seat at a table in the corner, orders something to eat and a drink and spends the next few hours watching people come and go. There are people of all kinds here in King’s Landing. Dwarves and Half elves, Dragonborns and Half-orcs. It’s amazing to see such diversity, but she would expect no less from such a large center of industry and commerce. The hours pass and soon enough the workers file in, tired after a long day of keeping the King fat and rich and ready for their just rewards. Food and drink flow freely and competition breaks out, including an arm wrestling contest that catches her attention. 

She challenges the champion, earning herself a round of laughter from the large men standing around the table, but they don’t turn her away, moving aside so she can take the seat across the table. The champion is a dwarf male with a long brown beard and intense dark eyes. He doesn’t give off an air of intimidation though. In fact, he’s almost fatherly. He smiles at her and puts his elbow to the table. 

“You ready lass?” he asks, clearly here for the fun of the game. She smirks. 

“Bring it on.” she tells him and he laughs as she puts her own elbow to the table and clasps his hand. It’s not an easy victory, but it’s a victory nonetheless and the Dwarf, whose name is Yoren, buys her a drink and moves his seat beside her as others step up to challenge her. 

Yoren is a sweet man, with more than enough wisdom to share. He’s a former soldier like her brother and he seems to recognize her, though he doesn’t say anything about it. Eventually a Half Orc female takes a seat across from her. She’s as jovial as the others who came before her, giving her name, Ros, as she throws gold pieces on the table and sets up for the battle of strength. 

Nymeria laughs as Ros wins, taking back her buy in and Nymeria’s. The two women joke and laugh and it’s not long before Ros invites her to the bar for a drink. 

“What brings you to the capital Little Elf?” she asks as they take a seat at the far end. 

“I’m looking for something.” Nymeria replies. 

“And what’s that?” 

“I don’t know, but I’ll know it when I see it.” 

Ros laughs. “Well then, best of luck to you. If you need anything, I’ll be more than happy to help you out. I work over at Tobho Mott’s Smithy in the commerce center on the high street. You should stop sometime.” 

“That sounds excellent. I’m always in the market for new weapons.” 

Ros laughs again, downing her mead and ordering another. “My kind of woman. How long are you in town for?” 

“Until I find what I’m looking for.” 

“That could be quite awhile since you don’t know what that is.” 

“Hopefully not too long.” Nymeria chuckles. 

“That seems to be the general consensus around here.” Ros tells her. “Most people only come here to do business and move on. No one wants to stay, no one but the rich, and they hesitate to come through here. The new king is driving everyone away, too afraid they’ll do something to piss him off and get executed for it.” 

“I hear he’s a bit paranoid since he took the throne.”

“Paranoid, spoiled, whatever. He’s only out for himself, and anyone who speaks out against him, or makes the slightest error against him is at risk.” 

“Should we be talking about him now?” Nymeria questions, glancing around them. 

Ros waves off her concern. “Don’t worry, this place is safe. No one here likes the king either.” Nymeria relaxed, but not by much. She’d heard stories about the boy king from her father for years, how his mother coddled him, turned him into a spoiled, spineless brat. Things only got worse as his father’s health declined and when he died, he was quickly thrust upon the throne, a mere sixteen years of age and wholly unprepared for the challenges he would face. So, instead of learning, or becoming more capable, he simply became a problem for everyone. 

“So, where do you hail from?” Ros asks, drawing Nymeria from her thoughts. 

“The North, my brother and I are passing through on our way to the Southern Coast.” 

“Nice place to visit. Business or pleasure?”

“Little bit of both.” 

“Well, I wish you the best of luck.” Ros says, catching sight of something over Nymeria’s head. “Have another round on me and if you find the time, stop off at Tobho Mott’s before you leave town. We’ll set you up with a fine piece of weaponry for your travels.”

Arry thanks her and Ros leaves to join a new group that’s entered the pub. Deciding to call it a night, she orders some food and finishes her drink while she waits. 

xXx

The next morning, Aegon is gone by the time she wakes up, so she gets dressed and heads down to the pub for breakfast. She eats quickly and quietly and when she’s done she asks the inn keep for directions to Tobho Mott’s Armory. It takes her most of the morning to get there, weaving her way through the crowd and stopping to look in the other stalls in the Market District. She makes it by noon, stepping into the quiet shop to find it empty. The bell above the door rang as she pushed through it and it’s not long before someone enters the shop from the back. 

“Can I help you?” he asks, and she turns to catch sight of him. He’s tall, very tall, almost Half-Orc tall and well built. His shaggy black hair hangs in his familiar eyes and Nymeria finds herself unable to speak for a moment. This is it. He’s it, he’s the one, the thing she was sent here to find.

She opens her mouth to reply, to start in on her explanation, but her attention is quickly diverted to a display behind him, and she’s suddenly forgotten what she was going to say. She approaches the pedestal, captivated by the sword lain upon it.

“Tell me about this one?” She says. 

“Valerian steel, just finished last night. Silver inlay in the hilt and pommel and 3 real sapphires inlaid along the cross guard. An enchanter down the way sold the gems to us, they can store one spell each.” he tells her. 

“How much?” she asks, certain she looks as though she’s just witnessed a miracle. 

“Two hundred gold pieces.” he tells her, and she steps back from the pedestal thoughtfully. 

“Not bad.” she says, examining the blade. She reaches forward to pick it up, but stops herself midway. “May I?” she questions. 

“Of course.” he replies, watching as she reverently lifts it from his resting place and steps back, posing with it. Nymeria moves into a series of complicated maneuvers, testing the balance of the blade. It’s wonderfully made, she’s thoroughly impressed.

“Do you believe in fate Mr…” 

“Cletus, just Cletus.” he tells her. Arya feels a warmth swell within her at the sound of his name. If there was any doubt before, there is none now. 

“Just Cletus.” she replies with a smirk. “Do you?” 

He doesn’t answer right away, looking conflicted. He seems to war with himself, struggling with how to respond, and honestly, she can’t blame him. It’s not an easy question to answer. Even individuals who range toward the religious didn’t always believe in the concept of fate. It was hard to reconcile something like that, something that effectively meant that you had no choice in how you lived your life, that everything was planned out for you. 

“No, I don’t.” he finally replies. 

She studies him, a slow smile spreading her lips. “You’re lying.” she says and she sees anger flare in his beautiful blue eyes. She curses her blunt nature. 

“Excuse me?” he begins, heat flooding his cheeks. This was man quick to anger, that much was certain. Of course, she had just accused him of lying so really, she shouldn’t be surprised. 

Arya shakes her head and just like that he seems to relax. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you, it’s just… you’re hiding something.” she says. “Perhaps… it’s kismet, perhaps not, but from the moment I walked past this place I knew there was more to it than a simple smithy and quite frankly, I believe you are the reason for that.” 

“Me? Why me?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. The Raven Queen works in mysterious ways. She does not tell us mere mortals what she plans, only expects us to fall along the lines of fate.” 

Cletus huffs. “No offense to you and your  _ queen _ , but I don’t take kindly to being told how to live my life, god or no god.”

She shrugs again. “Fair enough. I’ll take the sword.” she tells him, fishing out the appropriate amount of money and handing it over. He takes it with a thanks. She smiles as she slips the sword into her belt and turns to leave. As she reaches the door, she looks over her shoulder at him with a smirk. “See you soon, just Cletus.” 

-

-

-

-

-

Aegon waits for Nymeria to fall asleep before sneaking out. He moves quietly down the stairs and out onto the street, letting the near silence of this part of the city wash over him. As peaceful as it is now, he knows it won’t be long before the crowds fill the streets again. He shudders at the thought, praying Nymeria finds what she’s looking for quickly. He can’t stand this city, or any big city really. Sure it’s easier for him to blend in here, but there isn’t much else worth being here for. 

Aegon walks the streets, keeping his hood up and his eyes down. Two crowns guard turn the corner ahead of him and he ducks into an alley before they can see him. He’s so caught up in his thoughts, dodging crowns guard as he weaves through the lower end of the city that he nearly forgets he’s not alone, startling as he feels a wet nose press against his palm. He looks down to find his Dire wolf companion looking up at him with bright red eyes, near glowing in the dark, and smiles. Aegon kneels beside him, running his hands through his fur. 

“Sorry old friend, I didn’t forget you, I swear.” he tells the wolf, smiling as it reaches forward and rubs its face against his. “Alright Ghost, let’s go.” Aegon stands and as he does, Ghost turns his nose to the sky and sniffs. He boofs softly, running off in the direction of the smell. It’s only Aegon’s years of training that help him keep up. 

Ghost skids to a halt at the base of a set of stone stairs several blocks from where they started and looks up, whining softly at Aegon. “What’s wrong boy?” Aegon questions just as the warm, savory smells of cooking meats and bread waft toward him. 

“Can I help you, sir?” a cheerful voice calls out from the top of the stairs and Aegon looks up to see a stout looking halfing standing there, smiling down at him. From this distance, lit only by the torch lamps along the top and stairs, he can’t see much more than that. 

“I apologize if we disturbed you, my companion here seems to enjoy the smells coming from your temple.” Aegon calls up. 

The halfling laughs, hearty and full. “Well come on up then. There’s plenty to go around. It’s a feast tonight.” 

Aegon doesn’t get the chance to decline politely, as Ghost bolts up the stairs, running happy circles around an equally joyful halfling. Aegon follows him up, getting a better look at the halfling as he stops at the top. The halfling is rotund, but also hearty looking, like he’s someone you wouldn’t want to go head to head with without a weapon. He has brown hair and sparkling brown eyes and looks to be a bit older than him. 

“Welcome to the temple of Cyrrollalee.” he says, his voice loud and booming. 

“I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with… her?” Aegon says. 

The halfling nods. “That’s right, she’s the halfling god of friendship, trust and hospitality among other things. Worshiped by cooks and bakers, artisans and innkeepers alike.” he grins. “I’m Hot Pie, the traveling Cleric of this temple. Come in, join us in celebrating my departure for the southern temples.” Aegon is ushered into the temple, ducking to fit through the door. 

Inside, a large, long table is set up spanning one side of the modest temple to the other. Around it are pillows, soft and plush and halflings running into a back room he assumes is a kitchen and returning with platters of meats, breads, vegetables and various other delectable smelling foods. He catches sight of Ghost, sniffing at what he can, the halflings around laughing at how excited he is. One of them gently guides Ghost to a pillow at the table and the large wolf sits, waiting patiently for what he knows is to come. 

“Come, we’re almost done, have a seat, get comfortable.” Hot Pie ushers him forward. He sits and Hot Pie takes a seat beside him. It’s not until then that he realizes the commotion has calmed and the other halflings have taken their seats as well, looking at Hot Pie expectantly. “Friends, join me in raising a glass in celebration of our glorious goddess, and welcoming our new friends to the table on this most joyous occasion.” Hot Pie leans toward him. “Sorry Lad, I didn’t quite get your names.” 

“Aegon, and that’s Ghost.” 

Hot Pie chuckles. “An apt name.” he then turns back to the table. “Aegon and Ghost.” Ghost boofs at the sound of his name and laughter follows as the little halfling female, most certainly a child, sitting next to him, smiles up at him. He leans down licking her face and she laughs happily. “Please, friends, eat, drink and be merry on this wonderful night!” 

“So, you’re leaving the temple?” Aegon questions, when his goblet is full and plate overflowing. 

“I am, as the traveling cleric it’s my responsibility to move through the temples around Westeros, check in, perform cleansings, and meet new members.” Hot Pie explains. 

“Where in the South are you headed?” 

“First Storm’s End and then eventually Dorne.” he says, taking a hearty drink from his wine goblet. “And what of you my friend? You don’t appear to be a regular in King’s Landing. Are you passing though?” 

“Yes, my sister and I are headed south as well. I’m not sure where though. That’s up to her.” Aegon explains. 

“Wonderful, perhaps we will meet again on the road.” 

“Perhaps so, I don’t think I’d mind that at all.” Aegon tells him, surprised by his own honesty. 

Aegon Snow was born of the Northern king and a member of the king’s guard. She had been tasked with protecting him on a diplomatic trip to Bear Island when they were caught in the trap of a trickster spirit in The Wolf’s Wood. Nine moon turns later he was born. His mother was dismissed from service so that she might raise him without fear of losing her life, but unfortunately she lost it anyway. Sickness swept Wintertown and Aegon was bundled up and brought to live with his father and half siblings, who he’d only seen when his father was able to leave his duties long enough for Aegon to visit them. 

Aegon had been welcomed, though his stepmother was a bit distant, (no one could really blame her, Aegon included), and he lived a rather happy, comfortable life in the company of those who loved him as if he had always been there. Despite this, however, Aegon had always been quiet, one of his half sisters had called him broody, and preferred solitude more often than not. Nymeria seemed to be the only one who could coax him out of his shell long enough to enjoy life, before he shelted back in place. Because of his nature, he didn’t tend to share his feelings much, even less so since his return from the front lines beyond the Northern Wall. 

Hot Pie was the kind of man who brought out a side of him only one other ever could. One of his compatriots on the front line, whom he had not seen since he was sent home for injury. Hot Pie sort of reminded him of that friend and it was a warm embrace he wished to sink into and never leave. 

xXx

Aegon did not return to the inn until well into the morning, long after Nymeria had woken herself. He was sure she was fine, she was the most capable fighter in their family, even more so than he and their eldest brother, and of all of them she could protect herself just fine. So he went to bed and did not wake until Nymeria returned. 

“That’s new.” he says, spotting the new blade on her hip. 

“Yes, I just bought it this afternoon.” she replies. “From a blacksmith with bright blue eyes.” 

Aegon watches her confused. “What does his eyes have to do with anything?” 

“They were the same eyes in the dream the Raven Queen sent me.” she tells him. 

“Good, you found him then. We can leave.” Aegon replies, standing to grab his pack. A small part of him is excited, perhaps they can catch up to Hot Pie on the road. He’s certain Nymeria would enjoy his company as much as he did.

“No, not yet. Not until the Raven Queen gives me a sign. She sent me to him and certainly couldn’t have been just to buy this sword.” 

“Why not, it’s a lovely weapon. Perhaps she wanted you better equipped.” 

Nymeria rolls her eyes, not bothering to hide it from him. “One more night brother, we can leave tomorrow after I stop and see him one last time.” 

Aegon sighs, but does not argue. 

xXx

Aegon is woken that night by his sister’s screams and he is at her side without question. She sits bolt upright in bed, panting, a sheen of sweat covering what he can see of her bare skin. 

“What? What is it?” he asks, desperate for answers. 

“Cletus, he’s in danger.” she says, thrashing about to rid herself of her covers. She quickly dresses, and Aegon follows suit.

“Who is Cletus?” he asks, though he’s certain he already knows. 

“The blacksmith, the one the Raven Queen sent me to find. Someone is going to try to kill him, we have to go.” she insists. When she’s redressed, she doesn’t wait for Aegon, bolting out of the room with her pack. Aegon takes her lead, grabbing his own possessions. When he hits the bottom of the stairs in the pub he finds Nymeria at a table, talking frantically to a half orc female. 

“Calm down friend, please, what are you saying?” the female half orc asks as Aegon approaches. 

“Cletus, the man who works with you at Tobho Mott’s, do you know where he lives?” Nymeria asks. 

“Sure, but why do you need to know?” she questions. The dark skinned dwarf sitting at her side eyes Aegon carefully as he approaches, an uncomfortable amount of recognition in his dark eyes.

“He’s in danger, someone is going to try to kill him tonight.” Nymeria explains, and like a shot, the Half Orc is out of her seat. 

“Well, why didn’t you say so, come on.” she bids them to follow as she hefts a great-axe that had been leaning against the wall behind her, onto her shoulder. She turns to the dwarf. “Yoren, are you coming?” 

“Nay lass, I cannot let the King know I work against him. There’s still too much to do.” 

“The king is after Cletus? Why?” Nymeria asks.

Yoren shakes his head and waves them off. “There’s no time for explanations now, ye need to get to him and get him out of the city as fast as ye can.”

Ros doesn’t wait, bolting for the door, Nymeria close on her heels and Aegon not far behind. 

-

-

-

-

-

Getting raided by bandits was not how he had envisions his quiet evening at home, but here he was, fighting off rough looking thieves with his warhammer and trying to make enough noise to alert the neighbors. There wasn’t any hope that they would come to help, but he knew if he made enough noise at least one of them would get fed up and alert the Crown’s Guard. Until then he needed to keep his guard up. 

There were three of them, all human, large but not as large as him, and with swords and knives that were far too nice to belong to bandits. None of them spoke and they weren’t detered when he warned them that he had nothing of value for them to steal. He had been in bed when they broke down his door, and since he was fairly certain they wouldn’t give him the chance to get dressed before they attacked, he was forced to face them naked. 

One of them stepped forward and he swung in reaction when he was in range, landing a blow to the shoulder and breaking the bones. The bandits arm went limp as he howled in pain. Another stepped up, but he couldn’t react this time, slashing out and thankfully missing in his haste. The third one was more careful and he managed to slash Cletus across the arm, spilling blood down his bare arm. Cletus hissed, stepping forward to swing at the one who had landed the blow. He swings wide and misses, but manages to get control of his swing enough to use the momentum to catch the second man unaware. The man is knocked prone, his weapon skidding across the floor. 

The man he crippled moves to strike out with his good arm, but before he can make it, he lurches forward, grunting before falling to the floor, an ornate dagger sticking out of his back. The other two men turn toward the door, cracked and caved in from their invasion and the man who stabbed him catches an arrow in the shoulder, knocking him back a few steps. Cletus catches movement out of the corner of his eye and sees the man he knocked down, stumble to his feet, fears clear on his face as he stares out toward the door. Cletus turns just in time to see Ros step through the shattered doorway, brandishing her great axe and glaring at the remaining men. 

The one who caught the arrow charges forward, attempting to drive his knife into her leather clad chest, but she merely steps to the side, revealing the cloaked form of the elven girl from earlier in the day. She’s got the sword he made drawn and lashes out with grace and speed, cutting the man down. 

The last remaining bandit looks on with terror as he realizes the odds have turned on him. He shakes his head, trembling in fear and turns to bolt for the window at the back of Cletus’ cottage. Another arrow flies from the door, followed by a second, both embedding themselves into the fleeing man’s back. The man falls dead to the floor. 

“Good timing.” Cletus says to Ros as she steps further in, allowing the elf girl and a second elf he’s never seen before in. It's then that he remembers he’s naked, quickly grabbing a rag from the counter nearby and holding it over his private bits. The rag is not nearly big enough so it’s not particularly effective. 

“Not good enough.” the girl says, not seeming to notice his indecent state. “Pack a bag, we need to go.” she insists. 

“What? Why?” Cletus argues, even as the nagging feeling that he should listen overwhelms him. He barely knows her and while he’s always listened to his instincts he’s arguing with himself now. 

“Because this wasn’t any ordinary break in.” Ros tells him. “These men were sent to kill you.” 

“We need to get you out of the city as quickly as possible, before the king finds out his men failed.” the male elf adds. 

“The king? Why the hell would the king send men to kill me, I’m just a blacksmith.” 

“We don’t know, but if we can get you out of the city, we might just be able to figure it out, now move it.” The girl insists and he’s just about to argue when the shouts of the king's guard sound in the distance. “See, they’re already coming.” 

Cletus clenches his jaw, setting his hammer aside and grabbing what he can. Rations, supplies and what meager possessions he has that still have meaning to him, stuffing them into a pack. He quickly throws on some clothing, and grabs his hammer. 

Sure that he’s ready, the girl turns and runs out the door, the male elf following, with Ros behind him. “I’ve got a mate who can get you into the sewers.” Ros says, her voice low as they crouch for cover in an alley several streets over. “He can lead you out beyond the walls.” 

“Sounds good, let’s go.” the girl agrees. 

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“...And that’s where we’re going to leave it for tonight!” Podrick exclaims, earning a chorus of complaints. 

“No, you can’t leave it there. We need to get out of the city.” Arya exclaims. 

Podrick just laughs. “Next week.” he replies. 

“You’re such an ass.” Gendry complains. 

Podrick grins behind his DM screen. 

“Bloody hell that was intense near the end.” Jon says, he turns to Arya sitting across the table from him. “I can’t believe you rolled a Nat 20 on your stealth attack.” 

She grins. “What can I say, I’m just that good.” beside her Gendry laughs. 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself Arry, we have a long way to go.” 

“Says the guy who fought off three assassins naked.” Horus laughs, as Gendry grins.

“What can I say, I like to go into battle properly armed.” 

A round of groans sound around the circular table in the Winterfell rec room, which only makes Gendry laugh. 


	2. The Sewers

Friday by Dice

Session 2: The Sewers

xXx

“I hope you all are ready for this.” Podrick grins as he sets up his DM screen. 

“It’s never a good thing when the DM smiles like that.” Jon replies. They all agree, which only makes Podrick that much happier. 

“I don’t know what you guys are talking about,” he says. “I am a kind and benevolent god.” 

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Cletus watches from the shadows as Ros meets with a hooded figure. He doesn’t like this, doesn’t like it at all. Nymeria is at his back, peeking over his shoulder and he would be lying if he said the proximity didn’t concern him. He barely knew this woman and she was clearly dangerous. She and her companion may have come to his rescue once, but there was no guarantee she wouldn’t turn on him later.

Aegon is crouched across the alley from him, watching the space behind them and his wolf is sniffing the air, facing where Ros is currently speaking with her contact. 

“Hey.” he hears the whisper behind him and he looks over his shoulder. Nymeria is staring up at him, her tiny elf form is barely visible over his shoulder without him turning his body slightly. He’s not sure how he missed how small she is. “Are you injured?” she asks. Almost involuntarily he looks down at his arm, only just then noticing the red stain soaking through his sleeve. 

“It’s minor.” he tells her, waving off the concern. She looks at him annoyed, crawling around him and reaching out to lay her hand on the stain. It burns slightly at her touch, but it’s quickly soothed away. When she pulls away, he rolls up his sleeve to see the cut, only to find the skin unmared at the center of a dry patch of blood. “Thanks.” he mutters awkwardly, not looking at her. He feels her shift away and returns his attention to Ros who is making her way back to them. 

“Alright, this way.” Ros says, bidding them to stand. She leads them over to the cloaked figure, a man about Aegon’s height. He’s stooped over at the moment, prying the grate off a manhole. “This is Angus, he’s going to lead you through the tunnels and out of the city.” 

“You aren’t coming with us?” Cletus questions. She shakes her head. 

“No, it’ll be too noticeable if both of us disappear. The people who are after you will notice and then start questioning our comrades. We can’t risk anyone being lumped in with whatever trumped up charges they’ve got for you.” she explains before turning to Nymeria. “I’m going to question Yoren about what he knows. I’ll do my best to get the word of whatever I hear to you.” 

“Thank you.” Nymeria replies.

Angus gets the grate off the manhole, drawing their attention as he jumps down into it.

“Quickly.” Ros insists and together they move toward the opening. Aegon jumps in, followed by Ghost and Cletus looks less than thrilled. 

“What’s wrong Just Cletus?” Nymeria asks, a teasing lilt to her voice. “Not afraid of enclosed spaces are you?” 

“No.” he snaps defensively, but there’s very little bite to it. 

Nymeria smirks. “Better hurry then.” she doesn’t look away from him as she takes a step, leaping down into the tunnels below. Cletus sighs, looking back at Ros who appears far too amused by the exchange, before he too leaps in. 

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Nymeria resists the urge to laugh. She knows from experience that someone like Cletus, all hot temper and brooding, would not appreciate her laughing at him. He quite literally looks like a dragonborn in a baby carriage though and his discomfort is palpable. She tries to ignore it, knowing the more they focus on getting out of the tunnels, the faster they will be free. 

“How far is the exit?” Aegon questions up ahead. 

Angus turns slightly to speak over his shoulder. “It’s about an hour's walk. We’re already pretty close to the edge of the city anyway.” he explains and she can almost feel the relief wash over Cletus. She peeks over her shoulder at him, his scowling face peeking back. She stops herself from asking if he’s okay, knowing full well he’s not. 

The sewers themselves are as disgusting as one would expect. The stench alone is foul, but add to it the stream of dirty water flowing in the canal along the floor and the slick mold and excrement that coats the walls and it’s almost unbearable. Nymeria had traveled through sewers before, sometimes it was necessary, but the sewers of the capital were worse than any other. 

It feels like an eternity before they reach a junction and change direction, now moving south east. Angus leads them through the tunnels rather quickly, keeping to the edges of the canal. 

“Wait.” Aegon says suddenly, stopping short. Nymeria just barely manages to stop in time, only for Cletus to fail and bump into, driving her into Aegon. 

“Sorry.” he mutters under his breath, reflexively reaching out to steady her. 

“What’s wrong?” Angus questions softly. 

“I hear something.” Aegon tells them. “Something large.” 

“There are all manner of creatures down here. We need to keep moving. This is not a good place for a fight.” 

“I can’t imagine why.” Cletus grumbles as they continue on. Nymeria looks back at him sympathetically and he doesn’t appear to know how to handle that. 

They only make it a few more feet before Ghost stops, growling out into the darkness beyond them. 

“Can you see anything?” Cletus asks, his voice low, but in the enclosed space it doesn’t matter. 

“No, whatever it is, it's farther than sixty feet.” she answers. She feels him shift around behind her, hears him grunt and she turns just in time to watch him struggle to pull his war hammer off the bottom of his pack. 

“Fuck.” he curses under his breath. “I’m definitely at a disadvantage down here.” 

“Shit.” Aegon replies and Nymeria turns to find him looking back at them. 

The first attack comes suddenly from the front. A giant rat not much smaller than Ghost, lunges from the darkness, sinking its fangs into Angus’s ankle. He grunts, swinging down at the rat with the short sword he pulls from his hip. He slices into the rat’s neck, thick black blood squirting from the wound. The rat reels back, letting him go and scampering a few steps back. 

Ghost lunges forward at his master behest, snapping out at it with his massive jaw. The rat ducks out of the way, falling into the brackish water in the trench. Hoping to use the rats momentum, Aegon knocks an arrow, but the narrow passage makes it near impossible to fire and he hits the wall on the other side of the trench.

Angus calls out, warning them of more rats and like a wave four more race toward them. Nymeria launches two daggers in their direction, missing the first but hitting the second. It screeches in pain, but keeps rushing forward. 

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Cletus is not having a very good day. First he’s attacked in his home and forced to feel, then he’s made to trek through the sewer system of one of the most heavily populated cities in the empire and now he’s fighting for his life, once again, against giant rats of all things. If he wasn’t so concerned with his companions, he’d be tempted to rage. 

Instead, he swings up in what little room he can manage and brings his hammer down on the rat that slips through Nymeria’s legs, flattening it fairly thoroughly. Blood and gore splatter across the stone foot ledge and gives a satisfied grunt. He looks up to find Nymeria staring at him, her eyes wide in what he thinks, hopes is fascination. He’s not sure he wants to dwell on why he hopes she’s fascinated by him. So he swings again at another rat to take his mind off of it, but all he gets for his troubles is a whiff and deep bite to his shin. He grunts, kicking it off. 

He watches in his own fit of fascination as Nymeria attacks the rat he shakes off, plunging her dagger into it’s back. It writhes for a moment or two before falling dead. He hears a whine and they both turn to find Ghost sinking his teeth into another one. It also dies. 

That leaves two, one of them jumping up on Aegon’s back and biting at his ear. He howls in pain, trying to pull the animal off, but to no avail. Angus can’t get a good shot at it without hitting Aegon, so Nymeria steps up, grabbing Aegon’s shoulder and pulling him so he stops writhing around. She drove a dagger into the rat, and it let go, dropping back to the ground and rushing off into the darkness. The fifth rat tries to run after it, but Ghost snaps his jaws at it, breaking its neck. 

“We need to go before more show up.” Angus tells them, short of breath. They don’t argue, following him through the damp corridors, the sound of rushing water growing louder as they moved. Ahead, light appears, and it’s not long before they’re stopping at the opening of the sewers overlooking the rolling hills that sprawl out to the south of the city. The opening sits quite a ways in the air, the sewage water falling from the pipe into an estuary below. “It’ll be easier if you climb down on this side.” Angus explains, gesturing to the right side of the pipe where he stood. He then turned, backing down the rocky ledges that built up beneath the pipe. Cletus went first down the cliff after Angus, carefully picking his way all the way to the ground. Aegon went next, Ghost having no trouble jumping from ledge to ledge. He slipped once, but managed to catch himself. 

Nymeria crawled out on the ledge, starting her way down, but just as she was straightening her posture to begin the backward climb, a giant rat poked its head out of the sewer pipe, startling her into losing her grip. Cletus reacts without thinking, putting himself directly beneath her falling body and catching her in his arms. He’s about to swing her down onto her feet, when Ghost rushes past him, tipping him off balance and sending them both falling into the estuary of filthy water. 

They both surface, caked in mud and other things they don’t want to think about. “What the fuck!” Nymeria exclaims, outraged at the sound of Aegon’s laughter. “You're dead to me brother.” she says, struggling up to the bank of the estuary and pulling herself out. She turns to make sure Cletus is alright and when she’s sure he is, she reels around on her brother and punches him hard in the shoulder. 

“Ow! What the hell was that for?” 

“For being a fucking asshole.” she replies. 

“You’re the one that slipped!” he says. 

“Yeah, and we would have been just fine if your bloody wolf hadn’t gotten in the way. You need to fucking train him already.” 

“Oh yeah, sure, that’s what he needs. Look how well that turned out for…” Aegon cuts himself off, watching the anger slowly drain from her body. “Li...Nym, I’m sorry, I didn’t…” she shakes off the initial shock and glares, shoving passed him. 

“We need to keep going.” she says, prompting Angus to take the lead. 

“We’ll head off this way. There’s a lake about a mile down that you can clean off in, then you’re on your own.” Angus’ voice trails off as he and Nymeria move away. 

Aegon turns to Cletus, offering him a hand up. 

“What was that about?” Cletus asks as they follow after. 

“It’s a long story.” 

**Author's Note:**

> For reference:  
> Arya=Nymeria, Wood Elf Rogue/Paladin  
> Gendry=Cletus, Human Barbarian, Armorer  
> Horus=Hot Pie, Halfing Cleric  
> Jon= Aegon, Half Elf, Ranger  
> Ghost=Aegon's Companion  
> Podrick=Dungeon Master


End file.
